Yesterday (Friday), Elijah *finally* had his last planned dose of chemo. In three weeks, he will have a full-body PET scan, and if it is at least as good-looking as his previous scan, then he will go to an observation schedule of check-ups every month, then every three months, then 6 months, then annually. He has about an 80% chance of staying well, says Dr. B. He would be likely to relapse sooner than later, so they will probably leave the port in for a few months. Dr. B. said after three years, his chance of relapse dramatically decreases.
The interesting thing Dr. B. said about the PET scan is that it does not have to be completely clear - just mostly clear. That takes a load off anticipating the scan. Now, after all this, am I excited? Meh. I'm quite glad the little guy won't have those nasty drugs in his body, but this hasn't really felt like a "weight-lifting" moment. Brian reminded me that it's a good thing. Our big-sigh-of-relief moments had been coming after re-inflated lungs and such. His progress has been so protracted that a last dose of medicine is pleasantly anti-climactic. Plus, we are probably holding our breath a little bit for the scans. Plus we have been in "cope" mode for so long that our leaps for joy are probably more like tentative skips. Plus we generally feel great about his condition and don't expect any surprises. Plus, the only thing that will change in our routine is the absence of medicine; we will still take monthly jaunts to visit our clinic friends.
I have a nearly-irresistible urge to skip his last week of Prednisone. I am to give him 9 more doses over the next 4.5 days, to accompany his chemotherapy. That stuff makes him absolutely bonkers. Then, there is the Zantac to protect his tummy and the Hydroxyzine to help *us* sleep, because none of us can rest with his steroid-induced Brownian motion. So, that's the hard part of 10 milliliters of repugnant liquid to get a twitchy, cantankerous toddler to swallow. If I'm sneaky, I can get the first gulp to take him by surprise. He fights the second squirt, pocketing some in his cheek long enough to convince me he's swallowed, then blow-holes it before erupting in a spirited cackle. On the third attempt, his face is whipping side-to-side so quickly, I can scarcely locate his mouth. I visualize my next move, waiting until he pauses, and I launch my medicine missile. Typically, I then shuffle to the sink to wash my empty syringe, hoping he'll absorb enough from the puddle in his ear to do the trick.
Showing posts with label adventures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adventures. Show all posts
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
The Fun "1"
Our baby boy has graduated into toddlerhood. Elijah had his first birthday last Friday. Brian went to work for the first time that week, since we had been iced in. Most places were closed. People were ice skating and skiing on the streets of downtown Atlanta. The Tuesday before was supposed to have been Elijah's last chemo treatment, but the weather chose differently. It would have been an easy-to-remember 1/11/11 at 11:00 appointment. Oh well. Next Friday it is!
We "celebrated" with a birthday dinner at a diner down the street, that was short-staffed and out of dessert. We then looped around town, snubbing "cool treats" for something warmer. We ended up at Dunkin Donuts, also nearly out of sweets, where we impaled a powdered munchkin with a stir stick and sang "Happy Birthday" to Elijah. We tossed Elijah a large $3.99 Blue ball, because (apparently) him enjoying his present is more important than me feeling good about it. (:grin: I love you, Brian!)
While we're on the subject, my brain is still whirring - disoriented and perplexed. We (i.e. Brian) went birthday shopping at Target and spent $8, and half of that was the birthday present. H-how did he get out of Target for $8? Th-there were $4 boys' shirts..a-and half-price Geotrax, and...sales! Glorious sales! I sit here trying to make sense of it all, wondering what I will say to my Am-Ex, still quivering in my pocket.
Well, Elijah likes the ball. Over Christmas vacation, he transitioned from mostly crawling to mostly walking, so chasing a belly-high ball is right up his alley. Besides, he had a proper party in Florida.
I'm still amazed by the things he's already figured out. The other day, I tried to zip through a shower, while Elijah banged at the shower door, sobbing on his waffle. I quickly dried off, calmed him and handed him back his soggy waffle. He mouthed it, decided he didn't care for it anymore, and waddled over to the trash and dumped the waffle. That would be handy if I didn't keep finding perfectly good sippy cups and books in the trash too.
Today, at breakfast, Brian began to say the blessing and Elijah babbled something and put his hands together in "prayer." I've also seen him signing "change," "up," "open," "book," "more," "eat," and playing along with "pat-a-cake." As far as actual words go, he says our names fairly clearly, but most everything else is a repetition of sounds and cadence. He's pretty adept at sound effects. He even does an unfortunately good representation of a scolding expression and voice, before giggling at himself. He has a great sense of humor.
He knows all about doors, socks, shirts and cars and concentrates quite hard on making them do their respective "things." He entertains himself "solving" boxes with lids and shape-sorting toys. His frustratingly solid object permanence abilities make him very hard to distract. This is all typical, but it never ceases to amaze me how quickly a baby can figure out his world.
He's an agile climber too. He zips up steps and onto riding toys, which he frequently tries to use like a scooter. When he doesn't want to be held, he's very hard to restrain. He's one determined boy.
I feel so blessed watching him grow, and seeing how unaffected he is, considering all he's been through. I remember all the prayers, meals, visits, donations, calls, cards and more from hundreds of friends, acquaintances and even strangers, that gave us the strength and comfort to endure Elijah's trials. God is so good and has held our sweet boy tightly in His hands, and has brought so many great people into our lives. I can't wait to see what He has in store for our little one as he grows!
We "celebrated" with a birthday dinner at a diner down the street, that was short-staffed and out of dessert. We then looped around town, snubbing "cool treats" for something warmer. We ended up at Dunkin Donuts, also nearly out of sweets, where we impaled a powdered munchkin with a stir stick and sang "Happy Birthday" to Elijah. We tossed Elijah a large $3.99 Blue ball, because (apparently) him enjoying his present is more important than me feeling good about it. (:grin: I love you, Brian!)
While we're on the subject, my brain is still whirring - disoriented and perplexed. We (i.e. Brian) went birthday shopping at Target and spent $8, and half of that was the birthday present. H-how did he get out of Target for $8? Th-there were $4 boys' shirts..a-and half-price Geotrax, and...sales! Glorious sales! I sit here trying to make sense of it all, wondering what I will say to my Am-Ex, still quivering in my pocket.
Well, Elijah likes the ball. Over Christmas vacation, he transitioned from mostly crawling to mostly walking, so chasing a belly-high ball is right up his alley. Besides, he had a proper party in Florida.
I'm still amazed by the things he's already figured out. The other day, I tried to zip through a shower, while Elijah banged at the shower door, sobbing on his waffle. I quickly dried off, calmed him and handed him back his soggy waffle. He mouthed it, decided he didn't care for it anymore, and waddled over to the trash and dumped the waffle. That would be handy if I didn't keep finding perfectly good sippy cups and books in the trash too.
Today, at breakfast, Brian began to say the blessing and Elijah babbled something and put his hands together in "prayer." I've also seen him signing "change," "up," "open," "book," "more," "eat," and playing along with "pat-a-cake." As far as actual words go, he says our names fairly clearly, but most everything else is a repetition of sounds and cadence. He's pretty adept at sound effects. He even does an unfortunately good representation of a scolding expression and voice, before giggling at himself. He has a great sense of humor.
He knows all about doors, socks, shirts and cars and concentrates quite hard on making them do their respective "things." He entertains himself "solving" boxes with lids and shape-sorting toys. His frustratingly solid object permanence abilities make him very hard to distract. This is all typical, but it never ceases to amaze me how quickly a baby can figure out his world.
He's an agile climber too. He zips up steps and onto riding toys, which he frequently tries to use like a scooter. When he doesn't want to be held, he's very hard to restrain. He's one determined boy.
I feel so blessed watching him grow, and seeing how unaffected he is, considering all he's been through. I remember all the prayers, meals, visits, donations, calls, cards and more from hundreds of friends, acquaintances and even strangers, that gave us the strength and comfort to endure Elijah's trials. God is so good and has held our sweet boy tightly in His hands, and has brought so many great people into our lives. I can't wait to see what He has in store for our little one as he grows!
A Visual Catch-Up Guide
To help you cope with my usual delinquency, I have created a visual catch-up guide of the recent history of the Cummings family, covering our three Christmases, and into the new year.
On the first third of Christmas, I achieved, on the 15th shutter release, a nearly-focused snapshot of my three miniature men about to open their Georgia-based gifts.
What followed this shot was a verrry leisurely opening, inspecting, assembling and playing of new toys. We took pleasure in the non-carnage of the event. Hours after commencement, gifts sat unopened, as each toy was thoroughly appreciated, leaving our nervous materialism alarms unsprung. P.s. When, and if, I find those evil little loss-prevention gnomes, with their nubby, nimble little fingers meticulously binding toys to hidden crevasses of their packaging, there'd better be some gnome-loss prevention yetis nearby to bind *my* limbs.
Next, we continue to BJs Wholesale Club, where we "wrapped up" some last-minute shopping, and I shrunk Ian back down to pocket-sized.
Everyone, meet Gene Gnome, Dad's birthday Father's Day Christmas present. My free time has made itself somewhat scarce lately.
Finally, the Wednesday before Christmas, Elijah started walking, so in retribution, I packed the car, strapped him (and his brothers) in the van and drove to Florida.
Everyone began feeling properly spoiled. Isaac and Aunt Ashley pressed cheeks.
Uncle Jack grinned from ear to ear.
Elijah and Grammy shielded their eyes from the glorious Christmas inferno. According to Ian, this is appropriate Christmas decoration, in contrast to my "Christmas shrine" - a table top tree with a token handful of ornaments, stuffed into a corner of the living room. I agree.
On the second third of Christmas, Aunt Ashley and Uncle Adam amuse themselves trying to stuff Elijah into his Santa suit. Elijah amuses himself by masterfully resisting.
Oooh! Dada a do! Do doo!
Starting stocking stuffers.
Grandpa Jim is so funny!
Elijah's first wrapping paper party.
On the third third of Christmas, Ian and Grandpa saw some meat.
Elijah narrates the festivities.
Mr. Isaac looking handsome in his Frosty vest.
Ian rings in the New Year.
Statler and Waldorf give their condiments to the chef.
Chef Boyardee does it again! Perfect pancakes, served with a smile!
Aunt Kelly reels in amazement as Captain Isaac, Space Ranger, launches to the moon in his new Fatheronium-powered rocket.
Whew. Christmasing is hard work.
Just a Georgia boy enjoying some old-fashioned Florida orange-pickin'.
We enjoyed the sweater weather, but Florida quickly lost its coolness.
Meanwhile, the Toys exercised a bit of passive-aggressiveness.
We decided to give Elijah an early birthday party, complete with the traditional birthday pumpkin pie.
Returning home from two thirds of Christmas requires super-human packing abilities and a long history of Tetris playing.
We returned home just in time to be iced in for the week.
Brian discovered ice petals sliding off of the bushes.
Elijah enjoyed his first snow day, Tupperware-sledding in the back yard.
After getting somewhat settled at home, the boys went to play with their friend, Luke. They wanted to decorate gingerbread cookies. That lasted about a cookie and a half, leaving mom to do the remaining dozen or so. My impatient grip, paired with a makeshift sandwich-baggie piping bag, resulted in one unsuspecting gingerbread man succumbing to a sweet, red tsunami. In an effort to clean up, most of the gingerbread men ended up with rosy sweaters, crimson jogging suits and bloodshot eyes. That got boring in short order, so I mixed it up a little with the occasional ginger cow and ginger business man.
To bring us up to date, I regret that I have no photo evidence, but I will conclude with today's highlight: Brian applying glue stick to Isaac's lips.
Isaac approached Brian with an opened glue stick, conveniently tinted purple for gluing accuracy, and asked him to put it on his cheek. Brian says, "Don't you mean your lips?" and proceeds to apply it to Isaac's lips. Then, Brian decides to find and inspect the "chap stick" lid and discovers it's glue.I think he missed a fabulous opportunity. In fact, maybe I'll give the "chap stick" trick a crack next time it starts to get a little wild in the house.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Where, Oh, Where is My Ultimate Life-Logging Solution?
I need a life-event narration conglomerator. If I could get a smart device to capture all the stories I recount by mouth, by text, by email, by Facebook status update, and by Blogger, and jam them all into one place, I'd be ecstatic. I want to include the boys' funnies, my favorite recipes and baby gadgets, our adventures and all other sorts of life bits. I'd love this to be my spot. I think. I'm mostly consumed by the thought: Will my boys care to know about themselves (and other parts of my life) some day, and where can they be assured to find this information?
I have them set up with emails that I send stories to, on occasion, so if they all have links to this, or perhaps an exported file of these ramblings, maybe that will work. Who knows where technology will be by then. Is this like saving them an 8-track mix tape? I love the feel and process of writing in paper journals, but they aren't searchable and heaven knows they would need to pay a cryptologist to decipher my handwriting.
This takes so much discipline and perseverance, and a compatible baby, who currently is enjoying a repetitive loop of nursing for 4 minutes, then playing for 2 minutes, before clawing back at me with his teary demands. Now I need to go write to the Facebook people for a log of all my posts that I can paste into this. Oh, that was a good laugh. I'll go find 'em myself.
It looks like I have another 2 minutes to scramble. Even Ian has figured out Elijah's favorite pastime. He observed: There goes Elijah looking for more paper to eat.
p.s. I will now go *grunkle into my new life-changing device. You do not know this, but I have the power of retro-inventing. I invent things in my mind and they appear as someone else's recent-past invention. I stomp my foot that I won't get paid for it, but move on to the pre-fabricated solution, resigned to the fact that I'd have been too lazy to figure out how to make it exist.
p.p.s. This particular instance of retro-inventing might involve the use of a time machine and a brain implant that has allowed me to download selective bits of memory and Oculartography and convert them into the 2010 HTML text version.
*You will have to search my blog for the meaning of this word, if it is not apparent.
I have them set up with emails that I send stories to, on occasion, so if they all have links to this, or perhaps an exported file of these ramblings, maybe that will work. Who knows where technology will be by then. Is this like saving them an 8-track mix tape? I love the feel and process of writing in paper journals, but they aren't searchable and heaven knows they would need to pay a cryptologist to decipher my handwriting.
This takes so much discipline and perseverance, and a compatible baby, who currently is enjoying a repetitive loop of nursing for 4 minutes, then playing for 2 minutes, before clawing back at me with his teary demands. Now I need to go write to the Facebook people for a log of all my posts that I can paste into this. Oh, that was a good laugh. I'll go find 'em myself.
It looks like I have another 2 minutes to scramble. Even Ian has figured out Elijah's favorite pastime. He observed: There goes Elijah looking for more paper to eat.
p.s. I will now go *grunkle into my new life-changing device. You do not know this, but I have the power of retro-inventing. I invent things in my mind and they appear as someone else's recent-past invention. I stomp my foot that I won't get paid for it, but move on to the pre-fabricated solution, resigned to the fact that I'd have been too lazy to figure out how to make it exist.
p.p.s. This particular instance of retro-inventing might involve the use of a time machine and a brain implant that has allowed me to download selective bits of memory and Oculartography and convert them into the 2010 HTML text version.
*You will have to search my blog for the meaning of this word, if it is not apparent.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Galoshes Have Other Uses Too.
Here is a comic strip that really nailed it and I have been giggling at it for a while now. It is Baby Blues from May 30, 2010.
This has been the story of most of the last 3.5 years of my life and counting. Elijah has entered the "acrobatic nursing" stage, now that he's big stuff and can crawl and is starting to cruise. He has 2 top teeth and is cutting a third on the top left. I think there are two cutting on the bottom, but it looks a little odd, so who knows what will show up. He's saying "Dada" and "Hi Dad" and has finally started saying "Mom," though I've been consoling myself with the fact that he often says "Da" from my arms, so, really, I win. I'm straining to find baby genius here, but he was making short "ha" sounds (as in hat), and he grabbed my hair and it changed to a long "ha," like "hair." If I work hard enough, I could probably decode a secret message in his floor pounding, too.
Isaac is enjoying another bout of teething too. Every now and then he pitifully whimpers, "I need mecine for my teef." Teething tablets are great! He is on the verge of being potty trained. I didn't think it was going to stick, but I stuck underwear on him again. If I had asked him if he wanted them, he would say no, but when I brought them to his feet, he stepped in without complaint. That was after leaving his diaper off for a few days and letting him watch lots of TV on his training potty. When he woke up with a start the other morning yelling, "I want big boy underwear on!!" in protest to his night time diaper, I figured we were getting somewhere. We've even ventured out with just our brave little undies on and only filled our rain boots with urine once. The training process has caused, of course, a bit of a fixation on all things potty, above what already existed. Isaac came into the living room and looked at his dump truck that had some mud on it and blared, "My truck has yucky poop on it! I can smell it!" He and Ian play the I'm Pee, You're Poop game and battle it out. Or, on evening walks, they squat every hundred feet or so blasting, "Toooooooot!"
Ian has been practicing defiant refusals, negotiations and fake crying. Sometimes he's baby dad to his little brothers, correcting their "dangerous" behaviors. Last night, he had asked for a bath, but ran off playing and when it was time to crawl in bed, he again asked Brian for a bath. Brian said no and had him lay back down in bed, igniting a grand fit from Ian. After wailing for a while, Ian recounted the situation, "I asked Dad for a bath and he said no, and I cried and cried and Dad pushed me on the bed and said bucket-dipping words and my feelings went down the bathtub drain." Boy, he can lay it on.
This has been the story of most of the last 3.5 years of my life and counting. Elijah has entered the "acrobatic nursing" stage, now that he's big stuff and can crawl and is starting to cruise. He has 2 top teeth and is cutting a third on the top left. I think there are two cutting on the bottom, but it looks a little odd, so who knows what will show up. He's saying "Dada" and "Hi Dad" and has finally started saying "Mom," though I've been consoling myself with the fact that he often says "Da" from my arms, so, really, I win. I'm straining to find baby genius here, but he was making short "ha" sounds (as in hat), and he grabbed my hair and it changed to a long "ha," like "hair." If I work hard enough, I could probably decode a secret message in his floor pounding, too.
Isaac is enjoying another bout of teething too. Every now and then he pitifully whimpers, "I need mecine for my teef." Teething tablets are great! He is on the verge of being potty trained. I didn't think it was going to stick, but I stuck underwear on him again. If I had asked him if he wanted them, he would say no, but when I brought them to his feet, he stepped in without complaint. That was after leaving his diaper off for a few days and letting him watch lots of TV on his training potty. When he woke up with a start the other morning yelling, "I want big boy underwear on!!" in protest to his night time diaper, I figured we were getting somewhere. We've even ventured out with just our brave little undies on and only filled our rain boots with urine once. The training process has caused, of course, a bit of a fixation on all things potty, above what already existed. Isaac came into the living room and looked at his dump truck that had some mud on it and blared, "My truck has yucky poop on it! I can smell it!" He and Ian play the I'm Pee, You're Poop game and battle it out. Or, on evening walks, they squat every hundred feet or so blasting, "Toooooooot!"
Ian has been practicing defiant refusals, negotiations and fake crying. Sometimes he's baby dad to his little brothers, correcting their "dangerous" behaviors. Last night, he had asked for a bath, but ran off playing and when it was time to crawl in bed, he again asked Brian for a bath. Brian said no and had him lay back down in bed, igniting a grand fit from Ian. After wailing for a while, Ian recounted the situation, "I asked Dad for a bath and he said no, and I cried and cried and Dad pushed me on the bed and said bucket-dipping words and my feelings went down the bathtub drain." Boy, he can lay it on.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Maybe if We Dropped a Megaton of Cheese
I've not been all that smooth myself. The first time we enjoyed a Greek Dinner at Mykonos, Brian's dad introduced me to their Sagnaki, or more specifically an appetizer of flaming, pan-seared cheese and tomato, doused with a squirt of lemon juice, to a cheer of "oooooooooOO-PA!" While awaiting our snack, I started pondering aloud how insensitive it seemed to set a dish on fire and name it after a tragic piece of history,when Brian interrupted with, "No, Amy, that was Nagasaki." The last mix up like that I can remember was when I was about 8 and thought people were constantly saying rude things about the elderly, when mom corrected me that the word I was thinking of was retarded, not retired. I also recall having an interesting moment, thinking people dipped rodents in fudge when I saw a recipe for Chocolate Mousse.
We had Greek for lunch again the other day and ever since then, Ian has celebrated various daily activities with shouts of, "ooooOOO-BAY!"
Yesterday, we set out to go to Fernbank, the museum of natural history. It all actually starts the night before, when I ensured that we had chosen a place to go and that it would be open on Labor Day. So, Brian wakes me up in the morning, we eat breakfast, and Brian claims he can do a quick project for his dad in about 3 minutes. Brian's Dad had stated that the two places he wanted to go for food while he was here were Thumbs Up and Flying Biscuit, so I planned that we would go there for lunch and dinner, respectively. After all sorts of bumbling, we ended up at a Mediterranean place for lunch. It was after 3 and at the end of the nearby Dragoncon and they had no pita, so they had gone out to buy hamburger buns(?!?!). Yes, why not pita? It seems there weren't many places open. By the time we finished, there was no reasonable amount of time to visit Fernbank, so we bumbled some more and went on a short quest to find Indian candy. When that didn't work, we headed for the Perimeter Mall.
On our way out of Nordstrom, a lady working there commented on Ian's boots. They ended up sitting on the floor trying to trade shoes. I was too busy admiring the scene to snap a shot of the good part.
Ultimately, we all agreed we had a good time, and I tried to be chilled about the absolute plan fail. Brian's dad made a comment about how sometimes we can over-plan and I sarcastically replied something along the lines of, "Yeah, like picking ONE place to go." The Cheesecake Factory dinner made it all better.
I've started trying to be very anal about putting things where they belong, and our counter in particular. We have a tendency to pile up a mountain of objects on it. Every night, particularly if Brian works the next day, I try to do a last-minute pick-up on the way to bed. I passed the counter and saw a pile of quarters. As I was taking them to the change dish, I noticed there were some state design quarters I didn't have in my collection book. My bedraggled Brian comes in and sees me hunched over my collection and nearly has a Zebu. I don't know why, but around 8 or 9 p.m., no matter how tired I am, I get a house-cleaning, project-starting buzz. It drives him crazy.
I need to formulate a new workout plan. I get an awful, Pavlovian response to taking the kids to the gym, because I know Elijah cries in child care until he's hot and puffy, and I can't do that anymore. It takes twice as long for Brian and I to switch off with the kids, so maybe I can put my membership on vacation hold or something. Or maybe I'll try a few more times at a different time of day. Or maybe I'll see if I can earn another Bad Parent Award and wear him in the Bjorn on the elliptical? Or maybe I'll simply keep trying to lug three bugs to the grocery store. Plenty of cardio there.
We had Greek for lunch again the other day and ever since then, Ian has celebrated various daily activities with shouts of, "ooooOOO-BAY!"
Yesterday, we set out to go to Fernbank, the museum of natural history. It all actually starts the night before, when I ensured that we had chosen a place to go and that it would be open on Labor Day. So, Brian wakes me up in the morning, we eat breakfast, and Brian claims he can do a quick project for his dad in about 3 minutes. Brian's Dad had stated that the two places he wanted to go for food while he was here were Thumbs Up and Flying Biscuit, so I planned that we would go there for lunch and dinner, respectively. After all sorts of bumbling, we ended up at a Mediterranean place for lunch. It was after 3 and at the end of the nearby Dragoncon and they had no pita, so they had gone out to buy hamburger buns(?!?!). Yes, why not pita? It seems there weren't many places open. By the time we finished, there was no reasonable amount of time to visit Fernbank, so we bumbled some more and went on a short quest to find Indian candy. When that didn't work, we headed for the Perimeter Mall.
On our way out of Nordstrom, a lady working there commented on Ian's boots. They ended up sitting on the floor trying to trade shoes. I was too busy admiring the scene to snap a shot of the good part.
Ultimately, we all agreed we had a good time, and I tried to be chilled about the absolute plan fail. Brian's dad made a comment about how sometimes we can over-plan and I sarcastically replied something along the lines of, "Yeah, like picking ONE place to go." The Cheesecake Factory dinner made it all better.
I've started trying to be very anal about putting things where they belong, and our counter in particular. We have a tendency to pile up a mountain of objects on it. Every night, particularly if Brian works the next day, I try to do a last-minute pick-up on the way to bed. I passed the counter and saw a pile of quarters. As I was taking them to the change dish, I noticed there were some state design quarters I didn't have in my collection book. My bedraggled Brian comes in and sees me hunched over my collection and nearly has a Zebu. I don't know why, but around 8 or 9 p.m., no matter how tired I am, I get a house-cleaning, project-starting buzz. It drives him crazy.
I need to formulate a new workout plan. I get an awful, Pavlovian response to taking the kids to the gym, because I know Elijah cries in child care until he's hot and puffy, and I can't do that anymore. It takes twice as long for Brian and I to switch off with the kids, so maybe I can put my membership on vacation hold or something. Or maybe I'll try a few more times at a different time of day. Or maybe I'll see if I can earn another Bad Parent Award and wear him in the Bjorn on the elliptical? Or maybe I'll simply keep trying to lug three bugs to the grocery store. Plenty of cardio there.
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